My mind doesn’t whisper,
it loops.
Spins circles out of silence,
makes meaning from a glance,
a pause,
a word
that maybe meant nothing at all.

I replay conversations
like they’re evidence.
Did I say too much?
Not enough?
Did they mean what I think they meant—
or am I just making storms
out of weather that passed?

I overanalyze the smile I gave,
the message I sent,
the second it took them to reply.
I measure worth
in milliseconds,
build whole tragedies
from tiny moments.

People say,
“Just stop thinking about it.”
Like that’s something
I haven’t already begged my brain
a thousand times to do.

I want peace.
But my peace
comes “what ifs,”
with echoes of things
no one else remembers
but me.

It's exhausting,
to feel everything
twice.
once when it happens,
and then forever after
in my head.